Prisoner of Love
by The Rose Duelist
Summary: Forced to take a vacation, Mòrag ends up on a trip where she must confront her unrequited feelings or risk breaking the most important relationship in her life.


**A/N: A heads up to readers, in this version of the universe, Mythra and Pyra did not come back at the end. Instead, Pneuma did. Happy reading!**

* * *

The new world had brought about many changes for humanity. First: the Empire of Mor Ardain and the Kingdom of Uraya set aside their political differences in favor of rebuilding humanity's civilization. Second: Emperor Niall granted Gormott its independence and full sovereignty. And finally: the collective nations — including the Kingdom of Tantal, Argentum, Letharia, and the remains of Indoline — formed the United Alliance of New Alrest. It seemed peace-time was at hand and all was right with the world.

During this transition, Special Inquisitor Mòrag was assigned to facilitate the peace accords between Mor Ardain and Uraya. Determined to do Emperor Niall and the whole of Mor Ardain proud, she worked tirelessly from day one. Long days filled with longer nights finally lead to a successful peace treaty and creation of the United Alliance of New Alrest six months later.

And now that it was all over, she found herself in the throne room of Mor Ardain, with her little brother telling her to take a...vacation.

"Your Grace, that is unnecessary." Mòrag protested. She stood the respectful few feet in front of him, arms crossed behind her back, but her eyes were narrowed.

"Mòrag, you've been working yourself to the bone. Take some time to relax." Niall shook his head from his seat on the golden throne, his blue hair moving back and forth with the motion.

Although he was her little brother, Niall had come a long way since taking the throne. And she'd been impressed with his drastic learning curve when it came to adopting the responsibilities that came with the crown as well as grasping the nuances of his position.

However, she did not appreciate this current directive. The woman knew that he believed he was doing the right thing by insisting she take time off. Although it would sound appealing to any other person after half a year of nonstop work, it was not to her. In fact, Mòrag had hoped this meeting would lead to a new assignment, preferably traveling to Gormott to aid its young government in generating the foundations of a constitution. Alone.

Which is how she wanted to be at the moment.

Her body itched in agitation. She didn't want to be in Mor Ardain any longer than necessary. And this meeting was already longer than she had desired — and this surprise certainly did nothing to allay the tension building within her.

"I am perfectly able to continue aiding Mor Ardain and its allies. I do not require rest." Mòrag responded pointedly, her eyes flicking left and right to monitor the surroundings.

"I respectfully disagree." He sighed and stood. "Mòrag, I don't know why you're fighting me on this. Don't you want to spend some time with your friends now that the war is over?"

He looked up at her with pleading eyes and she felt herself groan inwardly. She hated disappointing him. But this was not a matter in which she would yield. Not when her heart was at stake.

"With all due respect, your Grace, I don't wish to take time away from what matters most, which is laying the foundation of a new age of diplomacy for our world."

"If you're going to be that way, then I have no choice."

She cocked an eyebrow, folding her arms over her chest. Just what was he doing?

"Special Inquisitor, you are hereby ordered to surrender your sword for the next thirty days. If you do not comply, you shall be thrown into prison." Niall copied her body language, his eyes resolute.

"Excuse me?"

Had she heard correctly? Did her brother — her little brother — just sentence her to imprisonment if she did not take a vacation?

This was absurd.

"Mòrag, just take the time." Niall dropped his arms to the side.

"Why are you doing this?"

"Because no matter how much you deny it, you need it. I need my Special Inquisitor at her best. And I really don't want to have to throw you in jail."

"You realize this is a complete abuse of power."

"Perhaps. But if that's what it takes..."

They stared at one another for a long minute. Mòrag searched her mind for some sort of excuse, or leverage that she could hold over him, in order to evade his entrapment. But her mind was blank.

"Fine, your Grace." She seethed. Hands clenched into fists, she gave the customary bow.

"Please don't be mad. You'll see you need this," Niall said softly.

He was so very wrong.

"Good-bye, your Grace." She rose and pivoted, storming down the red carpet and out of the throne hall.

"See you in a month, sister," Niall called.

Anger combined with anxiety carried her forward and she didn't bother to respond. Her mind reeled and adrenaline pumped through her. She had to get out of Mor Ardain. And quickly.

* * *

Mòrag rushed through the halls of the palace, barely nodding to those who greeted her as she passed. She had to get back to the docks, find passage on a ship to somewhere, anywhere but here. And once transportation was secured, she'd lay low on the ship until it departed. Then she could breathe. Then she would be out of the orbit of —

"Lady Mòrag!"

Her.

Everything in Mòrag's body willed her to pretend she hadn't heard the call of her name by that lovely, melodic voice. To not let her heart flutter and her feet slow to a stop instead of running forward as they should. But the woman knew she was incapable of doing so, incapable of fighting against the need that burned within her. Which is exactly why she had stayed away. To avoid situations exactly like this. Because the mere sound of that voice — the one that had haunted her dreams the past six months — started to undo her.

Taking a breath, Mòrag stopped and turned to see her blade Brighid sauntering towards her. The Jewel of Mor Ardain. There was no denying that the name suited her, but Mòrag felt it was an understatement to Brighid's significance. Brighid was more than a guardian of the realm; a goddess of fire and strength devoted to her homeland. She was thoughtful, wise, shrewd, and above all, a faithful companion. And Mòrag admired her for it.

The swish of Brighid's hips drew Mòrag's eyes briefly, but she flicked her gaze back to Brighid's face as she neared. Mòrag hoped her emotions did not betray her.

"Brighid. I assumed you were traveling." Her voice was neutral and disclosed none of the turmoil she felt within. The need to greet Brighid with a warmer disposition, perhaps an embrace burned within her, but she kept her body frozen in place.

The blade stopped a few feet away from her driver, the flames of her hair licking the air around her head. Mòrag could feel the faint warmth of the flares, reminding her of the many times they were in close quarters. "If you had kept up your end of the correspondence, you would've known I was back in Mor Ardain."

Brighid had insisted upon keeping in touch when Mòrag was stationed in Uraya. Truthfully, Mòrag had volunteered for the assignment, but Brighid was unaware of that detail. If she knew, Mòrag wasn't sure what her blade would feel. Betrayal, assuredly. Disappointment, certainly. Hurt, unquestionably. And so Mòrag had...well lied.

"I apologize, Brighid. You are right. I should have been better at writing."

Brighid tilted her head to the side, skeptical. "And you couldn't be bothered to let me know you were returning to the capital?"

"Honestly, I assumed Niall was sending me to Gormott and didn't want to trouble you with such a short visit."

"That's an excuse, Lady Mòrag and I don't appreciate it after all we've been through together."

A knife flew into Mòrag's gut and twisted. She hated evading Brighid, despised herself for lying, but it was the only way to avoid awkwardness. She had always prided herself on confronting matters — no matter how uncomfortable or painful — straight on, but this was a different story.

But what could she say?

"Brighid…" Exactly. She could not without furthering a lie that continued to gut her slowly.

"I know how you can make it up to me." Brighid put her hands on her hips.

"How is that?"

"A little bird told me that you are taking leave from your duties as Special Inquisitor. Which is perfect since the others wanted to take a trip to the coast."

"Didn't you all just return?"

"If you can call a trek through the rainforest a relaxing venture." Brighid scoffed, folding her arms in front of her. "It was damp every day. And you know how that affects me."

Agitated. Annoyed. Slightly nauseated.

Despite this, Mòrag smiled. She couldn't help it. Brighid's pout was so cu—

No, she couldn't go there. The smile dropped from her face and the muscles of her core tensed, stiffening her vertebrae. Reminding her to be on guard.

"If you had been there, you wouldn't have enjoyed it either. I know how you feel about humidity."

"That, I cannot argue."

"Anyway, you must accompany us. And if you refuse, I will make sure that Emperor Niall throws you in the dungeon anyway for defying a direct order."

"What?!" Mòrag's eyes widened.

How did she know about Niall's threat?

"You really have no choice." Brighid shrugged, conjuring up a circle of tiny flames and spinning them between their bodies.

"So I am to assume you and Niall planned this?" Mòrag frowned.

"Maybe. But don't be mad. I missed you. Didn't you miss me?" Brighid waved the flames out of existence and stepped closer to Mòrag, mere inches away now.

Mòrag's breath caught in her throat and she felt a rush of blood surge upward into her cheeks. Brighid's eyes searched hers, eager and...a tiny bit desperate?

A pang of remorse reverberated through the Special Inquisitor. Had she already caused pain to her Brighid? No, she wasn't her Brighid. Mòrag had to remember that.

It didn't change the fact that as Brighid gazed up at her, Mòrag longed to touch her cheek, hold her hand, kiss her lips…

"I did," Mòrag whispered, betraying herself. She screamed inside; admitting the truth was only a gateway to inevitable hurt. For both of them.

A smile broke out onto Brighid's porcelain face and she glowed. "I have to admit, I was worried you didn't want to see me anymore and that's why you left."

"That would never be the case, Brighid. Never entertain the thought."

"Now, we have to get you ready for the trip! I assume you haven't updated your wardrobe since I last saw you?" Brighid gave her the up and down, which most reddened Mòrag's cheeks more.

"That...would be correct."

"You look a little flushed. Are you alright, Lady Mòrag?"

"Simply readjusting to the dry heat of the landscape." Mòrag pulled at her collar.

"Then first things first, we must get you out of those clothes." Brighid spun on her heel and headed for the exit, unaware that an unbidden — and unwanted — desire exploded through Mòrag's core.

Was this really happening? How had she gotten herself into this mess? Could she fabricate some sort of emergency that would send her back to Uraya? Or across the continent? Anywhere but here?

"Lady Mòrag, we can't waste any time. We are leaving tomorrow." Brighid had stopped, half-turned towards her.

"Right. I'll follow your lead."

If only Brighid knew that she meant that in every sense.

* * *

They were in Mòrag's apartment, in her bedroom — of course, because the universe was conspiring against her — sorting through racks of clothes that had been sent over at Brighid's request. Well, Brighid was sorting. Patiently, Mòrag sat in an armchair in the corner watching the other woman work. Occasionally the blade would throw a garment onto the red bedspread in approval, or flip past another with a grunt of disapproval.

With her back turned, Mòrag could admire her without chance of Brighid seeing. Brighid's perfectionist tendencies amused Mòrag. On their travels, the Special Inquisitor had gone out of her way to cater to these inclinations but seemed to always fall short. Most often, Brighid would simply fix the situation and jokingly chide the Flamebringer. Other times though, the Jewel would crossly point out Mòrag's mistake, then later apologized. Mòrag learned that these times were mostly linked to Brighid's level of hunger; the hungrier, the more cross. So Mòrag had learned to always have chocolate on hand.

It was the small things that had first captured Mòrag's heart. The chocolate cravings she had in the middle of the day like clockwork; the twitch of her nose when she was annoyed; the hearts she created out of her blue flames when she was bored; the giggle she made after covertly pranking Zeke; the precise arrangement of the bedcovers in the morning. All of it Mòrag had noticed, and all of it she cherished.

"Lady Mòrag, did you hear me?" Brighid said, glancing over her shoulder.

"I'm sorry. My mind was elsewhere." Mòrag cleared her throat.

"I wonder where. You had quite the smile on your face."

"I-I'm just tired. Recovering from the heat."

"Well, I have a solution to that." Brighid held up two bathing suits. One was a navy polka dot one piece with a halter neckline. The other was a simple black two-piece. The former was very...feminine, while the latter showed a lot of skin. Neither Mòrag was a fan of.

"I know what you're going to say, but I would like you to give these both a chance."

"I have a bathing suit, Brighid."

"No. I burned it."

"What?!"

"It was the only way I knew you would have to choose."

"Very cunning of you," Mòrag placed her chin in her palm, unamused.

"I thought so," Brighid smirked.

"Either way, I'm not wearing either of those."

"Please? Just try one on for me." Brighid frowned. "If you still don't like it, I will find you an exact match of your old suit. Or as close as I can."

"Fine. We have a deal." Mòrag rose from her seat and seized the suits from Brighid. Though as the garments exchanged hands, Mòrag's fingertips brushed up against Brighid's. A pleasant warmth transferred between them. As a fire blade, Brighid was always warm. But Mòrag had forgotten the sensation, and it rippled through her, comforting, a reminder of their intimate bond.

"I'll just go and…" Mòrag gestured to her washroom and rushed into it, closing the door harder than necessary. Exhaling, Mòrag leaned against it, clutching the suits to her. It had only been a few hours in Brighid's company and Mòrag already felt her resolve weakening. How would she spend an entire trip attempting to keep her distance?

Mòrag held both suits out in front of her. Brighid was always trying to push her out of her comfort zone (she called it "character building"). Resigned, Mòrag slid out of her clothes and put on the polka dot suit. Hesitantly, she looked at herself in the mirror. The suit hugged her how she imagined it would. Snug and highlighting the lean muscle she'd built over time. The sweetheart neckline that pushed up her cleavage was too much. She felt silly. It was just too feminine for her. No one had ever seen her that way, and no doubt someone would laugh.

And as much as Mòrag liked to pretend, she was not immune to embarrassment via such scrutiny.

"Lady Mòrag? I'd like to see."

Mòrag groaned. "I'd rather not."

"And I'd rather not tell the Emperor you're resisting and have you thrown in prison."

Mòrag's lips collapsed into a firm line and she opened the door. "Extortion is low, Brighid."

Brighid opened her mouth to respond, but the retort died in her throat. Instead, she gazed at Mòrag with...wonder?

"I know, I know. I look silly. I'm going to take it off." Mòrag spun around, cringing inside.

"No no wait!" Brighid grabbed her arm and pulled her back into the room, towards the full-length mirror on the far wall. Positioning Mòrag in front of her, Brigid looked her up and down once again. Mòrag averted her eyes to the floor, heart thudding in her chest.

"You look very pretty, Lady Mòrag."

Mòrag's head shot up, meeting Brighid's gaze in the mirror. "Truly?"

Brighid nodded and smiled. "I think it's lovely." A beat of silence passed between them and Mòrag smiled.

Then she clapped Mòrag's arms. "Now go try on the other."

"You know I won't like the other one."

"Because it's two pieces?"

"...yes."

"I understand. Will you at least consider this one?"

"I will...wear it. For the trip."

"Lady Mòrag, thank you." Brighid clapped her hands together, her eyes sparkling with delight.

"Now if you don't mind, I am going to change into sensible clothes." Though her appearance remained calm, she felt pleasure at bringing Brighid happiness.

"Here is something else." Brighid held up a garment. "Don't worry, I know you'll like this one."

Cocking an eyebrow, Mòrag took it, careful not to touch her blade this time. She made her way back to the washroom and held up the garment as she closed the door. It was an indigo jumper. Mòrag beamed: Brighid always knew exactly what suited her.

Then her face fell. Because it didn't matter. Brighid didn't feel for Mòrag how she felt for her blade.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, Mòrag and her friends arrived on the southern coast of the continent. To Mòrag's surprise, she found that a resort colony of sorts had already established itself. Not that it was too much of a surprise; six months, while it passed quickly, was also enough time to set up a small town of business, especially one that catered to leisure and luxury.

As Nia checked them in at the hotel — which seemed to have been entirely booked out for their group considering their blades had accompanied the drivers as well — Mòrag marveled at the surroundings. The hotel was grander than she had expected, especially considering how new it was.

"My prince said some wealthy investors came and broke ground pretty quickly before anyone could stop them," Pandoria ambled towards her, practically reading her mind.

"Investors?"

"Oh, you know, the leftover Indoline priests." Pandoria tapped her finger to her lips. "I think they feel guilty about all the blood money Amalthus collected over time. And they wanted to put it to do something to benefit others."

"And their solution was a hotel." Mòrag scoffed.

"I mean, it wasn't my idea. And that's just capitalism."

Mòrag wrinkled her nose and decided to change the subject. "Have you and Zeke been back to Tantal since…"

"We went back once, about four months ago. My prince still needs to spend some more time with his father. They still aren't on very good terms. But it's a little better."

"And how are you doing?" Mòrag asked. "Have you...spoken to him?"

"Oh…" Pandoria blushed. "Just...getting by."

Mòrag hesitated, then squeezed the blade's shoulder. "If you need to talk, I am happy to be of service."

"Thanks. But I'm fine."

"Pandy! Come look at this painting." Zeke called from across the lobby.

"If you'll ex-a-cuse me," and she skipped off towards her driver.

Mòrag tucked her hands into the pockets of her jumper, which was quite comfortable. Pandoria was in the same situation as her, only reversed. She hoped that at least Pandoria and Zeke would find their happy ending. Both had been through so much, they deserved it.

"Mòrag, here's your key." Nia waved a card in front of her face.

"Thank you." She plucked it from her outstretched hand.

"They upgraded the room from two twins to two queens so consider yourself lucky." The Gormotti sniffed. "They wouldn't give me a bigger room even though I have Dromarch."

"I'm sorry, two?"

"Yeah. You're sharing with Brighid."

Of course, she'd be sharing a room with her blade. She'd done that the entire time they had been traveling. And yet the idea of being in such close quarters with Brighid all through the night now…

Mòrag felt her chest tighten, but she managed to eke out, "Yes, of course. I forgot."

"You're acting weird, Mòrag. Are you feelin' alright?" Nia put her hands on her hips and leaned forward, scrutinizing her.

"Just the heat."

"We're headin' to the ocean so you won't have to worry 'bout that fer much longer," Nia responded. "Meet back down here in twenty. I think Brighid and the bellhop already headed up to the room."

"I see."

"Why did she bring so many clothes? It's only a two-week trip."

"Brighid likes to be prepared." Just another one of those things that Mòrag adored her blade for.

"Anyway, see ya in a bit." And Nia strode away, motioning for the tiger to follow her, leaving Mòrag in the lobby alone.

Mòrag looked down at the keycard in her hand. The universe seemed intent on putting her in trying situations. Somehow she'd have to brave it the best she could. Though how she was to do that she had no idea.

* * *

The group was eager to hit the beach after their day of travel. Upon reaching the coastline, Rex promptly ran into the water, followed by Zeke and Tora. The rest scattered along the shoreline taking up spots underneath the shade of palm trees.

Luckily, the weather was warm but not excessively hot. A summer breeze wafted through the air and the clear sky and glittering blue water made their surroundings picture perfect. Exactly what a vacation ought to be. If only Mòrag could enjoy it.

"Mòrag, are you going into the water?" Pneuma asked as she shrugged off her robe revealing a two-piece, emerald halter suit that sparkled in the sunlight.

"I am considering it." The woman rolled out her mat, careful to keep sand from dusting onto it.

"Brighid?"

With precision, the fire blade also unrolled her mat. "Oh no. I'm planning on sunbathing." Satisfied with the position of her mat — which was of course right next to Mòrag's — Brighid slipped off her robe.

Mòrag did her best to keep her jaw from dropping into the sand. Though it was a one-piece, it could hardly be called that. It was navy blue with cut-outs on either side, leaving only a thin band of fabric connecting the triangles on top to the bikini bottom.

"Do you like it, Lady Mòrag? I thought we could match." Brighid twirled for her driver.

"Erm, yes, Brighid. It is very...bold." Mòrag managed to recover, snapping her eyes up from Brighid's body to her face.

Brighid's brow furrowed. "You don't like it."

"No, no, no. Not at all." She fumbled. "I think you look…"

Irresistible. Beautiful. Alluring.

"I think your driver is trying to say she thinks you look great. I mean...you do look hot." Praxis chimed in, leaning on Mòrag's shoulder, dressed in her own white tankini.

"Ahh, I see." Brighid nodded. She appeared to buy that excuse. Mòrag inwardly sighed. She owed Praxis some sort of favor for rescuing her, even if the blade had no clue.

"What did you mean by match?" Theory asked, appearing beside Praxis. Where one went, the other followed.

"I bought Lady Mòrag a new suit."

"Oh, let us see." Nia clapped her hands.

"What are we seeing?" Pandoria skipped over, dressed in a purple bikini decorated with tiny lightning bolts.

Was everyone going to watch her?

Panicked, Mòrag glanced at Brighid with desperate eyes. She didn't want a show. But her blade just winked.

Mòrag glared. Lips set into a line, she shrugged off her suit for the others to see.

A chorus of audible gasps sounded from her friends.

"You're so pretty!" "That's actually cute." "It's very feminine. Not a bad look."

"Sounds like a rousing approval," Brighid commented.

"Now that's over with, I am going into the water." Mòrag strode away, her pace a little quicker than necessary. She wanted to get away from the eyes examining her.

Small waves crashed at her feet as she reached the waterline. Deliberately, she steered clear of Rex, Zeke, Kora, Vale, and Tora, walking west of them until she could no longer touch the ground. She dove into a wave as it sped towards her, and propelled herself forward, savoring the cool touch on her skin. Her feet spurred her onward underwater, breath slowly exhaling out of her lungs. Finally, she surfaced.

Using her hand to clear the sea salt from her face, Mòrag blinked and looked around as she treaded water. She was far out from the beach, not too far, but far enough she could get some space from the others. The sounds of those playing carried to her over the bouncing of the sea, and she was thankful they hadn't noticed her yet.

Her eyes swept back to where her the group she'd fled from still congregated on the beach. They were animatedly discussing something, but the conversation broke off when Pandoria grabbed Nia's hand and pulled her towards the ocean, Praxis and Theory skipping behind. Pneuma followed with a shrug. And Brighid returned to her mat and lay down.

Brighid in her suit was seared into Mòrag's mind. She shook her head left and right, attempting to rid herself of the image, but it was no use. All she could think about was running her hands over it, over Brighid.

Letting out an audible grunt, Mòrag dove and swirled around in the water, determined to interrupt her train of thought. No, she wouldn't let it bother her. This was supposed to be a relaxing day at the beach. And she would somehow enjoy it despite the eternal distraction that was the Jewel of Mor Ardain.

Bursting to the surface once more, the woman eyed a group bouncing a beach ball in the shallows. Taking a breath, she swam over to them, her body cutting through the waves with elegance. Toes touched the sand and she stood upright, the water bobbing around her waist.

"Mòrag! We were wondering when you'd join us!" Rex called out.

"I wanted to get a little exercise first." She answered, striding towards them, though keeping herself half in the water. She was still self-conscious of her suit.

"Well...catch!" He tossed the ball to her.

It soared towards her and she bumped it with her fists towards Nia.

"Nice!" Zeke called out. "You play?"

"Every sport imaginable growing up." The ball soared towards her once more and she punted the ball to Nia, who barely managed to toss it over to Pandoria.

And so they played, trying to keep the ball out of the water. It was a simple exercise, one where Mòrag's mind was lulled into a quiet, meditative state.

Finally, the ball plunged in the middle of the circle, splashing each member of the group.

"Alright, I'm done." Theory shook out her arms.

"How about a round of Meiko Polo?" Rex suggested.

"What's that?" Praxis asked.

"It's basically hide-and-seek. One person closes their eyes and shouts 'Meiko' and everyone else shouts 'Polo'. The person tries to catch someone with their eyes closed."

"Why's it called Meiko Polo?" Pandoria flicked her tail back and forth in the water, flicking water onto Zeke who protested with a scoff.

"My friend Meiko made it up when we were kids. We'd play in the cloud sea when the tide was high. How 'bout it?"

"I'm going to excuse myself," Mòrag said. "Lying in the sun sounds excellent now." Moving out of the circle, she trekked towards the shore, hoping no one was looking at her. If she could, she would've sprinted across the warm sand, grabbed her robe, and tied it around her hastily.

But her mind switched concerns at the sight of the navy suit. With each step, Mòrag prepared herself. She would not allow herself to be affected so strongly by Brighid. She was the Special Inquisitor, she could compartmentalize emotions a thousand times over. And that is what she'd do now.

"Looks like you were having fun." Brighid propped herself up on her elbows as Mòrag neared.

"I was surprised myself." She grabbed her towel and began to dry off.

"Before you do that, I was wondering…"

Mòrag stopped and met Brighid's eyes. Or tried to. The blade was staring at the sand, a faint blush creeping over her cheeks.

"What is it, Brighid?" Mòrag asked gently.

"In all my time with you, I don't think I've ever seen you swim."

"Oh." Mòrag took a seat on her mat, thinking back through their years together. It's not that she hadn't swum, but it seemed every time she did, Brighid was not present.

"You're quite good."

"You were watching?"

"Of course. Who wouldn't want to watch that long-form of yours?" Brighid grinned coyly.

Mòrag told herself to stay strong.

"I had an excellent teacher growing up."

"Well, I was wondering if you'd give me lessons," Brighid leaned forward, the curves of her breasts smooshing together in a way that made Mòrag's breath hitch in her throat.

"Wouldn't...isn't that uncomfortable for you? Being in the water?" Mòrag replied, breathless, pushing down the butterflies in her stomach.

"I'll be alright for a little while."

Of course, Mòrag already knew this. She was just trying to find an excuse.

"So?" Brighid's watchful eyes assessed her.

"Of course. I'd be happy to."

Mòrag rose, tossing her towel back onto her mat. Brighid held out her hand and batted her eyelashes. Mòrag's stomach flipped but she kept her face blank as she took the woman's hand and helped her to her feet.

Mere inches existed as space between the two. Mòrag's heart skipped a beat and she slightly leaned in.

"Shall we?" Brighid asked. Without waiting for an answer, she headed towards the water, away from the group, holding onto Mòrag's hand and dragging her along.

Mòrag stared at their intertwined hands as they walked, stunned. The warmth was still there, but the softness of Brighid's skin still caught her by surprise. She'd always assumed her blade would have calluses from wielding her whips, but it was never the case.

The cool water lapped around their ankles, then soon their knees, then finally their waists.

"I think that's far enough," Mòrag stated slipping her hand out of Brighid's reluctantly.

"What now, Lady Mòrag?" Brighid began unraveling the buns in her hair.

"We'll start by practicing freestyle. It's the most used of all the strokes."

Brighid shook out her hair and it tumbled in waves over her shoulders. The sunlight surrounding her gave her a halo-like effect, highlighting her beauty.

Clearing her throat to focus, Mòrag said, "Let's start with you on your stomach."

Brighid bobbed over to her driver and ducked into the water. Mòrag placed a hand on her stomach, steadying her. She did her best not to think about the feel of Brighid's bare skin on her hand.

"What now?"

"Let's see your kick."

"Really?" Brighid craned her neck up to look at Mòrag skeptically.

"You asked me to teach you."

"I just didn't realize we were starting so...elementary."

Mòrag laughed. "If you can't kick well, you could wear yourself out and drown."

"Well, we most certainly wouldn't want that," Brighid grumbled. And she began kicking in the water, splashing it every which way.

"You don't need to use that much force. Try smaller." Mòrag wiped some errant droplets from her face. This time, Brighid's kicks were more controlled. "That's better. Now we're going to focus on the front part." Guiding Brighid's shoulder, Mòrag demonstrated the circular movement of her arms, her fingertips brushing over the exposed skin. "Think of it like you are rotating like a windmill with your arms."

Brighid began following the directions. "This feels silly."

"Perhaps, but you are doin—" Brighid's hand smacked into her nose. Stinging pain shot through and she massaged the area.

"Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry Lady Mòrag!" Brighid floundered and stood, this time swatting Mòrag's chest. She gasped, covering her mouth with her hands, eyes bulging.

Silence dropped like a bomb between them. Neither knew what to say. The touch of Brighid's hand on her chest vibrated through Mòrag's body like electricity.

The situation was absurd. So absurd.

She couldn't help but laugh.

Brighid slowly brought her hands down from her face, smiling shyly. "I'm very sorry, Lady Mòrag."

"What's a swimming lesson without a little abuse?"

"Excuse you!" Brighid exclaimed in mock indignation and splashed her driver.

Mòrag threw her hands up in defense to late. Blinking, she peered through dripping eyelashes to see Brighid wearing a devilish grin.

"I see. That's how it's going to be then." Mòrag kicked water towards Brighid. The blade shrieked and dashed away, throwing water behind her.

Grinning, Mòrag raced after her, tossing water at the back of her prey. Footsteps pounded the sand as they continued running down the beach, away from the others. Brighid cast a glance over her shoulder and stopped briefly to hurl water at Mòrag. "Can you keep up, Lady Mòrag?"

The challenge had been issued.

Mòrag launched herself forward, closing the distance between herself and Brighid. Brighid yelped and darted forward, trying to escape. But it was no use. Mòrag neared and wrapped her arms around Brighid, tackling her into the sand. She rolled Brighid onto her back and straddled her.

"Looks like I caught you."

"That you did. I see I should've known better than to tease your abilities."

They fell silent, the sounds of their panting accompanying the rushing of the waves as they stared at one another for what felt like an eternity. Then Mòrag became aware of her position, feeling Brighid's legs along the insides of hers, skin on skin.

It was too close.

Jumping up, Mòrag spun away and squeezed water out of her bun. "I must thank you for that, Brighid. My exercise has been limited these past six months." She'd say anything to distract from the moment.

"It was not how I imagined my swimming lesson playing out, but then I'm glad it did." She stood, her locks of hair sticking to her form, dripping down the sides of her body.

"Shall we head back?" Mòrag suggested, already turning down the beach.

"Could we wait a moment, Lady Mòrag?"

Something in the way she said it pulled at Mòrag's heartstrings. She looked back at the blade, who stood there, one arm at her side, the other holding it at her elbow. Suddenly, she looked small and self-conscious. The bold, beautiful, confident Jewel emanating the opposite.

"Of course, Brighid. What's wrong?" Mòrag walked back to her, standing a couple of feet away, denying the need to hug her close.

"Things have been...strange between us. And I don't enjoy it. Is there something wrong?"

"No, no. Just…"

What could she possibly say? Confessing her...feelings was out of the question since she knew Brighid saw her nothing more than as a friend. Explaining it was difficult to be around Brighid because she knew her blade was open to finding other romantic connections was also out of the question.

"I am dealing with some...confusion at the moment. I'm not entirely sure what I want for my life now that the world is at peace and Niall doesn't appear to require my skills anymore." Mòrag brushed her wet bangs off of her forehead, attempting to keep her trembling hand calm. It wasn't a lie, but the vague qualities of the statement still intimated to Brighid that she wouldn't be sharing any secrets anytime soon.

Mòrag hoped Brighid would understand.

"I see. Then I will give you some space to figure things out." Brighid nodded mechanically then set down the beach, brushing past Mòrag without a glance.

Mòrag's shoulders slumped as she watched Brighid retreat. Her blade was angry.

* * *

Brighid's annoyance was an easy thing to allay. Brighid's irritation an easy thing to fix. But Brighid's anger...there was no easy way out of that. Brighid's anger was rare and unsolvable.

As they readied for dinner, Brighid said not one word to her. She didn't even look at Mòrag. Guilt flooded through the Special Inquisitor but she knew that it was better this way. She needed to separate herself from Brighid so she could move on from these feelings and return to their relationship as it had been: pure friendship. It didn't mean she didn't hate the present reality.

And so she slightly cracked.

"Brighid, please listen." She said. More pleaded.

Brighid did not turn from the mirror she watched herself in as she styled her hair half up and half down. Mòrag had always liked that style.

"I just need a little time. Then I'll explain everything."

"I don't understand what is so...so secret that you would keep it from me." Brighid whipped around to face her, glaring daggers. "It's me, Lady Mòrag. Your blade, your partner. I know you better than anyone so why can't you tell me?"

"Because…" Mòrag trailed off. If this was how it was going to be, she'd need to stand strong for herself. "You are my partner, Brighid. That is why I am asking you to understand. I am not deliberately shutting you out. But there are some matters I must work out on my own."

The other woman crossed her arms over her chest, still scowling. "Fine. I am still angry and I still don't like it, but I will respect your decision. Now, are you ready? I'm hungry."

"The dress looks very nice on you," Mòrag offered. It was new: a strapless blue sundress dotted with yellow daffodils.

"Thank you," Brighid turned back to the mirror and reached towards the nightstand for her earrings. "Rex's mother made it."

"I wasn't aware she was a seamstress."

Talking, this was a good sign.

"If you'd kept up with writing to me while you were in Uraya, you would know."

Two steps forward, one step back.

"Regardless, she sewed a jumper for you. It's at the bottom of your bag." Brighid pointed to the corner where their bags were stacked — Brighid's already unzipped and clothes bursting from it — and she finished fastening on her earrings. "I'm leaving." Brighid glanced at Mòrag, the frown gone replaced by an unnerving blankness. "See you down there." And she left.

The slam of the door echoed through the silent room. Mòrag dropped onto her bed. Perhaps she just needed to come out and tell Brighid the truth. But she didn't want to fracture their relationship, but the secret was straining it as it were.

Brighid's words echoed in her mind and she shuffled over to the luggage. Unzipping her bag, Mòrag dug to the bottom and pulled out a blue halter jumper. Of course, it was backless — no doubt Brighid's doing — but it was beautiful nonetheless. As Mòrag studied it, she saw that the bottoms of the legs were embroidered with yellow flowers. Daffodils.

A reminder of the bond that existed between the two of them. Bright and strong.

Quickly, Mòrag changed from her usual black pants and white collared shirt to the jumper. The bareness of her back unnerved her, but if she could show Brighid that their connection was still important to her, then she would do it.

Straightening her shoulders, Mòrag headed down to dinner.

* * *

Dinner was uneventful and shortly after, Mòrag stated she was tired and retreated back to her room to turn in early for the night. Although nothing appeared amiss at dinner, Mòrag was certain that Brighid was still angry, and she didn't wish to add fuel to the fire. But Mòrag received quite a few compliments on the jumper and in her periphery, she could see Brighid glowing.

Mòrag changed into her pajamas, read for a while, then turned out the light. Luckily, sleep came easily for her...until it didn't. Jolting from a nightmare, she woke with a start, panting, her mind replaying it over and over again in her head. She couldn't remember it — it was slipping away just as she tried to hold on — but she knew it had to do with her memories of battle.

Slowing her breathing, she glanced over at the other bed to see Brighid's sleeping form, her back to Mòrag. When had she returned? Not that it mattered; Mòrag had been fast asleep. And now with adrenaline pumping through her blood, sleep was a long way off.

Quietly, she slid out of bed and changed into loose pants and shirt so she could be decent in public. Carefully, she tiptoed out of the room, closed the door, and headed downstairs. As she passed through the hallway, her eyes caught sight of a clock: 2:37 am. Hopefully, the cool sea breeze would lull her back to sleep.

She entered the empty lounge and slid the balcony door open to the deck. The night was dark, but the moon above provided ample vibrant light. It was peaceful and quiet. The complete opposite of her mind.

"Can't sleep?"

Mòrag whirled around to see Pneuma joining her dressed in pajamas.

"No, though I sorely wish to."

"Can you hear that?"

Mòrag perked her ears up. Nothing. Until the faint sound of a lark chirping reached her ears.

"The bird?"

"Be thankful you don't have super-hearing. It's so loud. It's not even morning." Pneuma complained. "Why are you up?"

"I'm just...reflecting on everything that has happened to us, to Alrest, in the past year."

"Right. That is most definitely keeping you up tonight." Pneuma rolled her eyes. "You get one life, Mòrag. And while it seems like we get many, at the same time we also only get one life, since we can't remember when we're summoned each time." Pneuma rested her chin on her hands. "You should just tell her."

Mòrag froze. "What are you talking about?"

"I'm not blind, Mòrag."

Mòrag swore and her pulse quickened. "Do the others know?"

"Only Pandoria. And it's only because she's in the same situation and there's little chance of Zeke figuring it out any time soon." Pneuma mused, resting her elbows on the railing and placing her chin in her hands.

"Brighid doesn't feel the same." The words were bitter on her tongue and her heart broke a little at having to explain.

"Oh. I see. I'm sorry." Pneuma frowned. "But your solution is to push her away?"

"I wasn't planning on attending this trip. My hope was to stay away until…"

"You got over it?"

"Something like that."

"I guess I can understand that. It's hard being around someone who doesn't feel the same way about you." Pneuma agreed, turning her gaze to the moon.

"I assume your situation is far from resolved," Mòrag commented, leaning against the railing with her hip, but keeping her eyes focused on the Aegis.

"Rex is fairly oblivious and neither Nia or I want to bring it up. So I think it's just confusing for now."

"It appears we're all in strange states."

"I still think you should tell her. I think it may help you move on quicker."

"I will consider it."

"Anyway, it sounds like the bird has finally gone to bed. Which means I can finally turn in. See you tomorrow." Pneuma placed a hand on her shoulder before slipping back into the hotel.

Thoughts rolled over and over in her mind and Mòrag turned her attention back to the moon. Would it be best to just confess to Brighid? Then all of it would be over. Yet, if she were being truthful with herself, Mòrag was afraid of the rejection. Even though she knew it was inevitable.

Nonetheless, Pneuma was right. What better way to get over something than by breaking your own heart on purpose?

* * *

The next day passed without incident, and so did the following. Although Mòrag could sense Brighid's anger still simmered beneath the surface, she was nothing but cordial to her driver.

And the following afternoon, Pneuma had suggested they go for a picnic. Of course, she did not mention though that the spot she had chosen required a three-mile hike to get to. So by the time they arrived, everyone was exhausted.

Which gave Mòrag an opportunity to avoid the scrutiny of others and speak to Brighid in private.

"Brighid, could we…?" Mòrag gestured towards a part of the overlook separate form the rest of the group. Brighid nodded. Together they ambled over, out of earshot of the others.

"What is it, Lady Mòrag?" Brighid asked in her perfectly polite tone as they stopped.

"I...well...Brighid, you are aware that I consider you more than just my blade. You are my closest friend. And...confidante." Mòrag struggled, pulse beating in her ears as she spoke, making it difficult for her to hear herself over her increasing anxiety.

The icy exterior dropped away and Brighid lay a hand on Mòrag's arm. Mòrag relished in the touch, knowing that she wouldn't feel it for some time after this conversation.

"Well...er…" Mòrag trailed off. Her heart banged in her chest, threatening to burst out of her body. Perhaps that would be better: instantaneous death than this agonizing and pathetic attempt to confess how she felt to the woman she….

"Mòrag, you don't have to tell me. I'm sorry I've been acting childish for the past few days. I guess I was surprised since we usually share everything with each other. I see it's only natural that we would drift apart due to the distance these past six months." Brighid frowned. "Really, I am sorry. I am embarrassed by my behavior and I hope you can accept my apology."

"Brighid, you don't need to apologize, but I shall accept it all the same." She smiled at the Jewel, who smiled back, allowing herself to tuck a stray strand of hair behind Brighid's ear. The smallest gesture of affection she would permit herself to give.

It didn't stop the adrenaline humming through Mòrag's veins due to the imminent confession.

"I still do want to share with you what's been on my mind. If you'll listen."

"Absolutely. Anything for you, Lady Mòrag."

"I have developed these...feelings…" Why was this so difficult for her to say? She could face down beasts of extraordinary height and weight, massive monsters that could squash her out of existence, and yet standing there, in the bright of the day, but three simple words caused her to falter.

"Mòrag, are you saying you're in love?" Brighid finished for her.

"I...well...something like that."

"Oh." Brigid's eyes fell to the ground.

That was odd. Not the reaction Mòrag was expecting.

"Does he know?"

"Who?"

"The man you're in love with."

Mòrag gaped.

"No, she doesn't know."

Brighid's eyes popped back to Mòrag's. Surprised? Hopeful? Mòrag couldn't quite read what emotions swirled around in those violet irises.

"Are you planning on telling her?"

"I'm afraid to. I think she'll reject me."

"How could she? There is no reason for that. Lady Mòrag, anyone would be lucky to find themselves romantically entangled with you!" Brighid thundered.

Also not the reaction she was expecting. Which once again, meant Mòrag was no communicating this well. The attempt was becoming comedically more pathetic by the minute.

"Brighid, that is the crux of the problem."

"Are you asking me for help?" Brighid's voice reverted back to being small. "My help?"

She needed to stop this misunderstanding at once. She just needed to come out and say it—

Pneuma's voice called out, "You two. Lunch is ready."

"To be continued," Mòrag tried for a hapless smile, but her heart plummeted when Brighid simply nodded, the frown on her face tinged with sorrow that Mòrag had seen only a handful of times during their journey together. When Brighid learned of her history with Torna; Pyra's capture by Jin; Pneuma's apparent death; and the first time she and Brighid trained where she was burned to a lethal degree by Brighid's flames.

That last one was the most intense of them all. Brighid had said so the next day when Mòrag woke to find the blade lying on a cot next to her bed, having stayed with her in the sick wing of the palace all night long. Brighid had considered breaking her crystal because of the incident and Mòrag had demanded she never think of such things again.

"What were you two talking about?" Rex asked as he stuffed an egg salad sandwich in his mouth.

"Rex! You don't just ask people what they were talking about. It's private," Nia hissed and picked up a plate of smoked salmon.

"Who made these sandwiches? They're tiny!" Zeke complained.

"They're tea sandwiches. I wanted to try a new recipe," Vess smiled as she continued to set food out onto the blanket.

"My Prince, you could learn to cook," Pandoria pointed out, pouring herself a cup of lemonade. "Pneuma could teach you."

"Mmmm no. Count me out," Pneuma dumped some salad onto her plate.

"Poppi could teach!" She chirped.

"As much as I appreciate the offer, I, unfortunately, will be disgustingly busy when I return to Tantal after this trip." Zeke drawled.

"Is something wrong?" Dromarch asked.

"My father has decided it's time for me to marry and continue the royal line."

Silence.

"Well don't all at once congratulate me."

"Ew," Nia commented.

"Excuse me?"

As the bickering started, Mòrag observed Pandoria, whose eyes had fallen downward, focusing on the plate in her hand. She flicked her gaze to Pneuma, who was doing the same.

"I didn't say I wanted it. I still have to find a way to get out of the whole bloody mess." Zeke groaned. "Enough about my love life. Brighid, any updates on yours?"

"What?"

Mòrag froze. What was Zeke talking about?

Of course, Brighid had found someone during the six months time that Mòrag had fled Brighid's side because she was too much of a coward to confess her feelings. Of course.

It was her turn to look down at her plate. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see both Pneuma and Pandoria observing at her. Despite her heart shattering into a million pieces, there was something comforting about having their support.

"Didn't you say you were seeing someone? A Nathan? Or was it Natalie? Can't quite remember. You have a lot of suitors and suitresses. Is that a word, Pandy?"

Two people? Mòrag didn't know why she was surprised, Brighid was attractive in every way possible. She glanced sideways at her blade, whose face was turning redder by the second.

"I haven't spoken to either in five months. And nothing happened. I realized they weren't right."

A surge of relief spilled through Mòrag. Not that it mattered. Brighid still wasn't interested in her.

"How about you, Mòrag?" Zeke took a bite out of an apple unceremoniously.

"What about me?"

"Anyone in your life? No one really knows what you've been up to since you went to Uraya."

"I was brokering a peace agreement between Mor Ardain and Uraya," Mòrag said matter-of-factly.

"So no extracurricular activities?" Zeke wiggled his eyebrows.

Pandoria smacked him on the arm and he yelped.

"What does that mean?" Rex leaned over and asked Nia, who blushed and facepalmed.

"Moving on," Pneuma said, also flushing. "I spoke with the concierge and they recommended hiking to a waterfall tomorrow."

"Is it another fifty-mile hike?" Tora grumbled. "Tora's legs tired."

"Poppi carry Tora half the way," the artificial blade glared at her driver.

And once again as the conversation devolved into an argument, and Mòrag found herself looking at Brighid, who stared back.

As much as her heart longed for this woman, Mòrag found herself slightly angry. Brighid had kept these...dalliances to herself. Why should she be angry at Mòrag for not being so forthcoming either?

It seemed Brighid knew exactly what she was thinking. "I'm sorry…" she whispered.

"It's fine," Mòrag responded curtly.

"No, really. Please listen. I was unsure if it was something you wanted to hear about. I didn't want to bother you with it either. I just…" she trailed off.

"Brighid. I said it was fine."

It was most definitely not fine.

* * *

Mòrag spent the rest of the hike mainly conversing with Pandoria and Nia, though Nia would often become distracted by Rex or Dromarch. Which Mòrag didn't mind. She could tell Pandoria wanted to divert herself from Zeke's announcement, and she was happy to oblige. Especially since she was in the same position.

"Pandoria, have you thought of traveling? Now that the world is new?"

"It hadn't really occurred to me. Being a blade, I've just mostly gone where my Prince has. But I guess that could change."

"I know Kassandra and Ursula are considering forming a group to do so."

"Really?"

"Praxis and Theory mentioned it to me prior to us leaving for this hike."

"I...I'll definitely talk to them about it. It could be fun."

Mòrag smiled. Nia floated back to them and began a conversation about the latest gossip she'd heard from Vess, but Mòrag was barely listening. Her mind once again turned to the relations at lunch.

The whole point of her leaving for Uraya alone was because Brighid had expressed interest in finding romance. And it had clearly been with others and not herself, which had deeply hurt considering Mòrag had come to realize her feelings for Brighid by this time.

So why exactly was she angry? Because she knew for a fact now that Brighid had...dated? It wasn't anger at that. That was clearly jealousy and Mòrag didn't care for it. She had no claim to Brighid and it wasn't her place to say anything towards that.

However, she was angry about Brighid's anger towards her at not communicating.

And now Brighid assumed Mòrag was in love with someone else. The entire situation was a mess from which Mòrag wanted to extricate herself immediately. The cowardly way was to find passage on the nearest airship. Of course, she wouldn't do that, but she was nearing the edge of reason.

Once again, Pneuma's words rang out in Mòrag's ears. Just tell Brighid. Witnessing Pandoria's pain herself made her realize how depressing it was to be passed over. It didn't exactly ease her mind that Zeke was so oblivious to his partner's emotions and that Brighid was somewhat the same though Mòrag was the tiniest bit surprised that her blade hadn't picked up on anything whatsoever.

She sighed, tired from her mind running around in circles. She was not relaxed. She would much rather be in Gormott and she would most definitely share this with Niall upon her return. And demand he never threaten her in such a manner again or she would happily choose the dungeon over this torture.

As day turned to night, Mòrag found herself this time in Zeke's company. The group had dispersed, agreeing to reconvene for dinner at a later hour. And Mòrag didn't have the desire to return to her room for the inevitable confrontation that would happen with Brighid at some point in the night.

"How are you holding up, Mòrag?" Zeke plopped down onto the sofa in the lounge, stretching his arms out.

"I am quite fine." She took a seat in the opposite armchair. "But it seems you have yourself in a predicament."

"I know. Dear old Daddy seems adamant that tradition not be broken. I don't know why he knows I would be a shit ruler."

"Is that the only reason you don't wish to get married?"

"I didn't say I didn't want to get married. Just to someone I actually like." He groaned and covered his face with his hands. "Shouldn't that be something I'm allowed to do now that we have this whole new world and no one's afraid of our titans dying and such?"

"That is surprisingly philosophical of you."

"I have my moments."

Mòrag wondered if she should try to help Pandoria. Why not? "Is there already someone?"

"What makes you say that?" He sat upright, alarmed.

"No reason at all. It was simply a question."

"Well...I don't think she feels the same."

"Does this person have anything to do with the crystal embedded in your chest?"

"Oh, gods am I that obvious?" He cried out, covering his face once again with his hands.

A smile flicked across her mouth. At least she could impart some good news to Pandoria later.

"No. For once, Zeke, you are not. But I do think it would be best if you speak with her."

"But she's my best friend. What if it ruins everything?"

"Have you considered what if it doesn't?"

"You're surprisingly optimistic."

"I think you ought to consider what you would regret in the future. Not sharing with her the truth than being forced into a marriage, or taking a chance."

She should take her own advice. It was good.

"Alright. You're right. I'll do it tonight after dinner. When I've had some liquid courage."

"Don't have too much. Otherwise, you won't get a coherent word out edgewise." Mòrag smirked.

"I can always count on you to be a voice of reason, Mòrag. Thank you."

"Simply happy to be of service."

"Now let's drink because all of this is rather depressing." He grabbed a bottle of port from underneath the table — most likely he'd stashed it there earlier — and popped it open. He poured two glasses and pushed one towards Mòrag.

"Bottoms up."

She picked it up. Held it up in silent cheers and drank. As the smooth liquid hit her tongue, one thought ran through her head: what exactly was she going to do about this thing between her and Brighid?

* * *

At dinner, Mòrag surrounded herself at the table with Rex, Tora, and Poppi, though she luckily did not need to contribute to the conversation as the three of them seemed to be self-sufficient in that aspect. Occasionally, she would look over at Brighid, who spoke with Aegeaon and Pneuma.

The anger was slowly giving way to hurt and disappointment. Followed by exhaustion. If she was going to be rejected, she might as well get it over with.

As if aware of Mòrag's thoughts, Brighid met her eyes from across the room. Desperation floated in her purple eyes that twisted Mòrag's heart in her chest. With the slightest movement of her head, Mòrag gestured outside. Then she rose and headed outdoors.

She lingered on the back lawn, listening to the crickets chirp in the darkness surrounding her. From behind her, the door slid open and shut, but she did not turn.

"Lady Mòrag." Brighid's voice was breathy, gentle, sensual, worried. The dulcet tones cascaded over Mòrag like honeyed wine. How she wanted to bathe in them, but now was not the time.

"We must talk." Mòrag glanced over her shoulder to watch the blade glide to her side.

"So do I."

"In all our time together, I don't think you and I have ever had a...disagreement to this degree."

"No, we haven't." Brighid murmured. "I'd like to move past it."

"So would I."

Neither spoke for a minute. Mòrag tensed her body, preparing to start but the silence was shattered instead by the blade.

"You are...so very important to me, Lady Mòrag. You are the world. And it pains me that I hurt you by hiding things from you."

"I just don't understand why you did in the first place," Mòrag responded.

"I...was embarrassed." Brighid bit her lip.

"Of what?"

"That it even happened."

"Why? From what I understood before I left for Uraya, this was the very thing you wanted to do. To...date." Mòrag did her best to keep the sharpness off her tongue, but only half-succeeded.

"Lady Mòrag, I am...When I mentioned I was interested in dating, it's not precisely what I meant." Brighid fidgeted with her hands.

Mòrag's heart skipped a beat.

"I thought that if I brought it up that maybe you would say something. But you didn't and instead went to Uraya. I couldn't believe you were gone. So I thought I would make a few attempts and it was absolutely awful. I couldn't truly try because I kept thinking of you." Brighid rushed in one breath.

Mòrag blinked. Stunned. "What?"

Averting her eyes, Brighid said in a low voice, "I know you're in love with another, but I...it can only be you." Brighid exhaled. "I love you, Lady Mòrag. There will never be anyone else."

Mòrag didn't wait. She reached out for Brighid, pulled the woman to her, and kissed her hard. Brighid gasped, then leaned in, eagerly returning the kiss. Cradling Brighid's neck, Mòrag captured her lips over and over again, need coursing through her. She relished the softness of Brighid's lips and her taste. Each kiss was more passionate than the last. And Mòrag didn't want it to end. It was never enough. It would never be enough.

Finally, they separated, eyes locked. Mòrag's hand fell away from Brighid's neck but she kept her other arm around the blade's waist, clutching her, not daring to let her go.

"Lady Mòrag? What..." Brighid gazed at the Flamebringer in wonder.

"My dear Brighid, I don't love someone else, I love you." Mòrag breathed, still trying to catch her breath. "I...thought you didn't want me. That is why I asked to be sent to Uraya. I wished for you to be happy, but I was too weak to support you."

"You were not weak, Lady Mòrag. I would've felt the same," Brighid shook her head back and forth, placing a hand above Mòrag's heart. "I am so sorry, Lady Mòrag. I am so sorry for the pain I caused you."

"Don't think about it. I'm not." Mòrag murmured. Bliss engulfed her as she placed her hand on Brighid's cheek and caressed it with her thumb. "I think I knew when I awakened you that my heart was yours. It only took some time for me to fully realize it."

"Is it strange that I felt the same?"

"Perhaps it is a sign of fate." Mòrag smiled and kissed Brighid again. Her lips roamed Brighid's, this time reverent, gentle, tender. She wanted to savor every bit of this moment, what she'd dreamed of for so long. She wanted Brighid to know how much she cherished her and deepened each kiss, holding her close, their bodies fitting together like perfect puzzle piece matches.

When they broke apart, Mòrag reflected. "I think this means you should call me Mòrag from now on." She kissed Brighid's forehead.

"I don't know...I like calling you Lady Mòrag. And in private, I think I will find it...exciting with you having authority over me." Brighid winked.

"Brighid!"

Brighid grinned and planted a kiss on Mòrag's neck.

They stayed in each other's embrace, silent, soaking up the warmth from one another. Mòrag rested her head atop Brighid's. "We are a pair of fools, aren't we? We could've solved this six months ago without the unnecessary anguish and turmoil."

"But you are always the drama queen."

"Me?!"

Giggling, Brighid leaned away to look up at her driver, mirth dancing in her eyes. "Oh Lady Mòrag, so easy to tease. Whatever am I to do with you?"

"Simple." Mòrag leaned forward, her lips hovering over Brighid's. "Love me as I love you."

"That I can do."

And they kissed once more.

* * *

**A/N: I've been wanting to write a one-shot for my fav XC2 couple for a while now. I have another in mind and hopefully, I can get to it sometime in the near future. Anyway, got some behind the scenes inspiration over on tumblr. Leave some love 3**


End file.
